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Roxy Music – Art Rock (2025)

No, there isn’t any new or unearthed rare material on this new EP. It’s nothing more than the 1999 remastered versions of five of their early tunes, intended as a quick sampler for anyone intrigued by the title but unfamiliar with the band and in need of an introduction.

It’s a digital-only sampler, available via Apple Music and Spotify (and maybe Tidal if that’s still around). Fans of the band will have this stuff and thus can skip it, but it could be a nice way to introduce others to RM if they’re not familiar with anything beyond (maybe) “More Than This” and “Avalon.”

That said, it’s always fun to hear selections from these two classic albums again (or for the first time, if you’re new to the band), and in particular to remind yourself what a strong start Roxy made when it burst onto the scene in the early 1970s. From the US version of the debut album (which I’ve reviewed the SDLX package of starting here), we get “Virginia Plain” and “Ladytron,” but the rest of this EP skips a lot of good stuff from For Your Pleasure and Stranded in favour of the single “Pyjamarama,” rounding off with “Out of the Blue,” and “Prairie Rose,” which both came off of their fourth album, Country Life (1974).

Yes, that’s right: the first album was released in 1972, and two years later they had another three albums out, two of them in 1973 alone. Those were the days, my musical friends.

For the comparison, I listened to each song three times: once from the album it appeared on (apart from “Pyjamarama”), once from The Best of Roxy Music album (if available), and then the remastered version from the Art Rock EP.

In the case of “Pyjamarama,” I also listened to the live version from Viva!, which needless to say was more “present” and well separated that the flat, lifeless original single. The additional squelchiness brought forth by Eno’s replacement Eddie Jobson and the live performance really breathed some life back into the song.

The remastering of the studio rendition of “Pyjamarama” on Art Rock is a huge improvement over the Best Of version, restoring a sense of separation of instruments and generally updating the sound for, you know, high-fidelity stereo. You can hear the very obvious difference from the first chord, and as the band comes in each instrument has been “placed” and is audibly distinct from each other.

The drums and bass in particular have been placed in separate ears (with some crossover) and Ferry sits in the center, while the guitars play around him. A big improvement on the original single in every respect, though the live version has a certain immediacy that beats even the remastered studio cut.

The opening to “Virginia Plain” on the Best Of starts off way too soft, but the song does arrive properly in short order, and its only flaw is that the bass is too high in the mix, though it doesn’t interfere with the other sounds unduly. Eno’s electronics are just fabulous and don’t overplay the rest of the band except for the mid-8.

The remastered version nicely corrects this, while not preventing the band from raising the volume considerably when they come in. The bass is still prominent, but no longer dominant. The drums are much clearer, and the separation of instruments better defined (with better stereo effects as well). It’s only Ferry’s now-clearer vocals that remind you this is the same take.

Whoever remastered this really has a good sense of when instruments should advance and retreat, and where Ferry needs to be in the mix. This bodes well for the two songs that came from Country Life, the first of which here is “Out of the Blue.”

The original is awash in more sophisticated efforts and some stereo effects, and while the bass is still quite promiment, it doesn’t overwhelm the sonic fireworks that are going on. Ferry sings this like a ballad, but the band is completely opposed to the idea — and rocks out to a great degree, making much use of Jobson’s electric violin and MacKay’s oboe, with some light effects on Ferry’s vocal. This was always one of my favourite tracks off this album due to these contrasting flavours, and it still works really well in my view.

The Best Of version, by contrast, sounds like it’s almost a monophonic mix intended for AM radio play. There’s only the barest hint of separation until after the first verse, and everything seems very compressed. Much of the effects on the original album are minimized, or just gone, with the drums in particular sounding quite leaden.

Which brings us to the Art Rock remastering. It starts off subtle, but cleans up the oboe intro without diminishing the bass. Sadly the remastering seems to have been done on the muddier Best Of version, at least until the short instrumental break and the halfway point. From then on, the stereo effects and clearer sound are back, and Jobson’s violin absolutely soars, and double-tracked for a thrilling finale.

From here, we jump to the not-quite-country rock of “Prairie Rose.” Slide guitar shows up briefly, but gets fought back by MacKay’s whirling dervish of a sax solo. On the album, the band takes a slightly-extended jam-out before Ferry returns (strategically double-tracked in places). It’s a lyrically light number, designed to revel in what a UK band thinks country music sounds like.

Since it’s not on the Best Of album, our direct compare is to the Art Rock remastering, which wins this head-to-head contest handily. The voices here are so much clearer (both Ferry and the backup vocals), and the slide guitar has found a more prominent role where it doesn’t have to fight other instruments — leaving MacKay’s sax solo unmolested and crazed as it should be.

Everything on this number sounds like its on FM radio rather than the Best Of’s AM truck radio mix, especially Ferry’s vocals. It’s still a cheezy attempt at country music, but it sounds ridiculously much better in Art Rock’s remastering.

Finally we get to the big finale song: “Ladytron.” Here we have at least three versions to compare: the original version on the band’s debut album, the remastered debut album’s version, and now the Art Rock 1999 remastering.

The bass is very, very prominent in the original album version, but the other sounds are mostly pretty clear, from Ferry’s own backup of his lead to the soft piano in the background. Eno’s electronics dance round like wood nymphs, playfully complementing the band at the end.

On the Deluxe Edition of the album, the intro starts off much more softly but builds up more smoothly, coming into focus nicely. MacKay’s oboe stays in the background, but is clear and sharp. The mid-song jam seems a bit clearer on this version, but is otherwise very similar. Overall, a somewhat better mix but nothing surprising.

On to the Art Rock version: the opening is very similar (of course), but the double-tracked Ferry vocals are noticeably clearer. The instruments are pushed to the sides during the first verse, but come charging into the center as well as the sides better here, with more separation making it easier to hear what’s going on to your left and right alongside the center.

Overall, Art Rock offers and even more cleaned-up version of the song, but doesn’t mess with it much — as it was damn near perfect to begin with.

So, should you purchase Art Rock? I’d say the EP represents mostly a spring cleanup of some well-remembered songs, dusting off sounds and rearranging the sonic furniture a little, but really it’s “Pyjamarama” and “Virginia Plain” that get the biggest glow-up.

By the time the band were doing Country Life, they’d improved either their studio techniques or just hired better engineers, and the two tracks from that album are dolled up a bit, but not re-made (or re-modeled). Likewise, the EP’s closer “Ladytron” was less tampered with than expected, but just enough to make it noteworthy.

If I’d chosen the running order of the tracks, I think I would have led off with “Virginia Plain” and “Ladytron,” stuck “Pyjamarama” in the middle, and swapped out “Prairie Rose” for “All I Want is You.”

But that’s me. Is this worth buying, even though its a digital-only release? For the big improvements to the older songs, I’d say yes. “Out of the Blue” and “Prairie Rose” don’t benefit as much, so you might choose to just buy the three other songs and save a little money.

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Roxy Music – Roxy Music (box set) – Disc 4

1972/2018
Disc 4 – DVD video + 5.1 album mix

THE PROLOGUE

At last, it is time for a (short) break from the audio tracks, and a lateral move into video clips. The fourth disc of this set is in fact a DVD that includes some UK and French television appearances to promote the album.

It also includes a full 5.1 DTS 96/24 or Dolby AC3 Sound remix of the album for those of you with 5.1 surround sound setups. I lack such a home theatre setup, but that said even listening to it with a “spatial audio” assist via AirPods Pro reveals obvious improvements.

THE VIDEOS

Naturally, video clips from 1972 are sometimes hard to find, as videotape oxidizes over time and the tapes are often buried in archives. Thankfully, the band (or their record company) got copies of the tapes and preserved them well enough for presentation here.

The first “track” is a version of “Re-Make/Re-Model” performed live and filmed at the Royal College of Art in London on 6-June, 1972, intended as a promotional video rather than taken from a live show.

The sound is muddy mono as you’d expect, and the video is “marred” by an excess of 70s-era video effects that are so hokey and old they’ve come around to being cool again. The effects get excessive, but the visual and audio message gets delivered nonetheless.

From there we move to the venerable TV music show “The Old Grey Whistle Test,” a BBC show that ran from 1971 to 1988. This appearance was on 24-August of ’72. The video of this performance opens with an out-of-focus disco ball slowly spinning before dissolving into the quiet intro to “Ladytron” being played by the band.

Sleepy-eyed Bryan is off in the corner. The video of the band performing is beautifully sharp and clear, though the sound is of course still mono. Andy effortlessly shifts from oboe to sax with cover from the rest of the band. Manzenera’s bug-eye specs get a fair amount of focus, as well as his and Eno’s interplay of guitar effects vs. electronic efforts.

An extended guitar-and-electronics jam follows, and ends with some video feedback. If you were watching this while high, I can only imagine the either panicked or euphoric reception you gave this.

Likewise, “Top of the Pops” started off with blurry psychedics before sharpening up and focusing on the band in their full splendor for a version of “Virginia Plain.” Bryan is resplendent in his spangly green dress suit, Paul Thompson has now formally adopted (or perhaps this is the debut of) his “long-haired caveman with one black eye” look. Manzenera still relies on his shiny track suit and bug-eye glasses, while Eno is rocking a black ostrich-feather jacket, and the crowd are not quite sure how to dance to this, but they give it a go anyway.

Another live but more echoey (and very brief) performance of “Re-Make/Re-Model” is done for “Full House” on 25-November, with the band also doing “Ladytron” for the show on the same day. The band are positioned on a circular stage, with the camera slowly swooping in over the audience (who are seated).

The camera pans around behind the stage, and the band stops suddenly after the end of the first verse to applause. Yes, just one minute of the song! I believe this was used at the top of the show as a “teaser” for the bands that would be performing.

The (more complete) performance of “Ladytron” starts off with a close-up angle of one of Eno’s synth knobs. He kicks things off with some ambient noise while MacKay does a slightly-shortened oboe intro. Ferry and the band kick into the song proper, with more echo than normal because of the studio.

Manzenera is shown without his bug-specs. You can actually (gasp) see his eyes! Every instrument is clearly heard, so the sound mix is impressive. After Phil’s guitar solo and Eno’s stylings, the song comes to a quick close.

We then move on to a filmed performance at the Bataclan, in Paris, in front of a very large and enthusiastic audience. The set kicks off with “Would You Believe,” and the band are engaging in a bit of 50s style choreography. The song is unfortunately interrupted by an announcer telling the television audience (in French) about the venue and the band.

Eno is shown among those singing backing vocals, and while the sound mix is muddy and shifting, Bryan’s vocals are, as always, very clear. The 16mm film cuts into the instrumental break and second verse of “If There is Something.” This is clearly from towards the end of the concert, as Bryan is very sweaty but still very into it.

We do get the full “Sea Breezes,” with Manzenera doing his impressive “weeping guitar” style as heard on the album. Again, one is reminded that both Ferry’s vocals and the basic direction of the band are very polished and consistent with the album verison, allowing for only minor variations (mostly due to Eno’s electronic squelchiness).

The film cuts slightly to the opening of “Virgina Plain,” which the audience are clearly familiar with, clapping the count-in. Again, the band engages in a little synchronized movement while Ferry pounds that repeating chord. The song returns in full force for the sudden ending, the band waves goodnight and the crowd goes wild.

THE 5.1 MIX(ES)

Finally we arrive at the album once again, only this time a little different: a newly-created “surround sound” mix done by Stephen Wilson from the master tapes. Right away, you notice the crowd sound is floating around before the piano kicks in.

Even using just conventional headphones, there is stronger stereo separation and clear positioning of the players: Ferry in the center with MacKay’s oboe, Manzenera and Simpson on the left side (probably with Manz in front of Simpson front), Thompson on the center “back,” Eno and MacKay’s sax mostly on the right. Backing vocals are likely positioned in the back center, but on normal headphones they just sound a bit distant, like Thompson’s drums.

At the time of this review, I don’t have access to a full 5.1 surround system where I can listen to this mix in the way it is intended; that said, some headphones and earbuds (such as the AirPods Pro) do their best to simulate the experience, doing a good job at the separation but unconvincing when it comes to sounds that are intended to becoming from behind you.

If I can find a way in the near future to put this on at some stereo boutique or some friend’s home with 5.1, I’ll amend the review to include those impressions.

Naturally, the bass can only be as woofer-y as your headphones allow, and cranking up the bass on your stereo doesn’t really replace a true subwoofer. In my experience, however, owners of home theatres tend to crank the subwoofer up somewhat higher than they should, because of the novelty of truly having room-shaking bass at last.

The conventional headphone experience still rates as a novel and “different” way to experience the record, with the two rather different types of “surround” experiences and the appropriate amount of bass if you keep the levels even. For those who are long familiar with the album already, the 5.1 mixes might also be a good place to start, especially if you actually have the setup needed for it.

There’s probably less difference when experienced on a proper 5.1 setup, but to my ears the DTS option seems to give conventional headphone listeners more distinct separation, while the Dolby AC3 version draws it lines fuzzier, with most of the instruments having a better grouping, if you will. The sounds sometimes travel from one “side” to another, though the transitions are very smooth; some sounds seem further away, while others are perceived as being “closer.”

I’m just sorry I’m not getting the full experience. Yet.

THE CONCLUSION

This box set could be called a lab on how to experience the same album in a few different ways, but for me working my way through it, it was more about rediscovering what a remarkably fresh-sounding and original album it was at the time, not to mention re-appreciating a few songs that once forgets about compared to the singles. As a debut album, this thing is damn hard to top.

On top of that, the entire album sounds like it fell through a time warp from the first wave of post-punk “New Wave” bands that started using synths, and at least some of that obviously goes to Brian Eno’s contribution. Take him out of the picture and the band still rocks, but it wouldn’t have that “futuristic” vibe that makes the band stand so far apart from their 1972 contemporaries.

Roxy Music would certainly be a strong candidate for the honour of being “the first New Wave record.”

As someone who certainly hasn’t listened to every possible debut album from that year to compare but is broadly familiar with stuff came out back then, I’d still say Roxy Music is likely to be one of the absolute best and most innovative records. That Roxy Music emerged this fully-formed gives a lot of credit to Ferry as a superb songwriter, as a bandleader, and as an incredible talent-spotter.

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Roxy Music – Roxy Music (box set) – Disc 3

1972/2018
CD 3

THE PROLOGUE

Following what has become convention for these multi-disc box sets covering a classic album, Disc 3 is generally the odds-and-sods package, and that’s also true in this case. We get the entire album yet again (except for “Bitter’s End,” oddly enough) in the form of sessions recorded for UK DJ John Peel’s radio show, albeit out of album order, and across several sessions.

We also get a “BBC in Concert” recording with five songs from the album, and this time there is audience reaction noise, which is gratifying. There’s more to come on the live and semi-live front, but that will have to wait for the DVD that makes up the fourth disc in this package.

THE MUSIC

The first five songs hail from the band’s first meetup with Peel — on January 4th, 1972 — and the session is an interesting artifact from David O’List’s time as the guitarist for the band. The session starts with “If There is Something,” featuring a pretty similar vocal from Ferry and a few mistaken notes here and there but otherwise very impressive — this is a very well-rehearsed band that’s not afraid to play around the song a bit but is mostly very tight.

Eno’s synth work here occasionally reaches duck-warbling levels, but is mostly great. The song retreats to just drums and piano, with some fine backing vocals, for a bit before the band fully returns for the finish.

The second track is “The Bob (Medley)” which reinforces its war theme with air sirens and a menacing bass synth undertone ahead of Ferry and the band kicking in. The sax is made prominent in the instrumental break, which gives the middle section a nice lift. O’List proves himself a skilled guitarist, if prone to stick to conventional licks and hard-rock phrasing.

Next up is “Would You Believe?” which is the most direct throwback to the 1950s style and that is played up here. The band vocals, other than Ferry, are noticeably different than the album original, but the instrumention sticks to the script. This song is especially well-suited to MacKay’s sax and O’List’s guitar.

“Sea Breezes” starts off with an honest-to-god Tiny Tim vocal from Ferry, who sometimes skates too close to the thin-yet-warbly vocal line that separates them. We get a very drawn-out version of the song, running 8’15” and threatening to turn into a Grateful Dead jam in the middle.

Almost identical to the album version, “Re-Make/Re-Model” shows off again how tight the band has become under Ferry’s musical direction. Eno’s parts are more prominent here, but apart from that the performances are remarkably similar. This performance, live in the studio as it is, might be my favourite of the three versions we’ve heard so far.

The second Peel Session came in late May, and featured just three songs, but with new bassist Rik Kenton, who would be present for the remaining Peel Sessions. He was let go at the end of ’72 and went to a long career as a session musician.

By contrast to the album version, “2HB” is a little disappointing, in that the edit here cuts off the dreamlike opening that set the mood in the album version, and goes directly into the first verse. Beyond that, the song manages to recapture that feel in the instrumental break, where everyone except Bryan is playing together. There’s a weird channel shift near the end that kills most of the right side in the last 10 seconds or so, but that’s live radio for you.

Thankfully, we do get the dreamy mood-setting instrumental that starts off “Ladytron.” The jam section in the middle is always a treat, and the mix here is just different enough to keep things fresh while still being very similar to the album version.

After hearing these different versions of “Ladytron” in this box (with three more to go!), it’s clear that the key to this song is Kenton’s throbbing, insistent bassline. Unlike most of the songs, which are anchored by either Ferry’s piano or Paul Thompson’s incredibly good, solid drumming, in “Ladytron” it’s the bass that is the foundation everyone else builds on.

“Chance Meeting” is such a mannered song, sung in a clipped manner and based on an almost “Chopsticks”-like chord progression (but Ferry likes those chords, as we heard in “Virginia Plain”). The delivery is so stiff-upper-lip and the band so restrained, it makes for a nice mood break from the other tracks, but it’s still one of my least favourites on this album.

The final track for the Peel Sessions on this disc is of course their killer hit, “Virginia Plain.” Thompson’s bass drum teams up with Kenton’s bass, while MacKay’s oboe and Manzanera’s guitar take turns swooping around like daredevil stunt pilots, while Eno’s sonic decorations dance about wildly.

The remaining five tracks are from a “BBC In Concert” live event from August 3rd, 1972. It kicks off with “The Bob (Medley),” an odd choice for an opener in my view but around the same length as the album version, as compared to the drawn out jam we got on Disc 2’s outtakes.

Naturally, a live performance is going to have a different mix, but Eno really gets into his performance of war effects and sonic warbling early on here, with the band right behind him. After the first part, the band jams out in a now-familiar way that is close to what we’ve heard on previous versions. There’s the brief spoken-word moment, then things get heavy again before the finale, and we finally hear some audience appreciation.

“Sea Breezes” has a different but similar arrangment to the album version, and provides a sombre contrast to the more-bombastic previous opus. I think the problem I have with this song is that it meanders, and — as nice as the second half turns out to be — it never really pays off. That said, Eno goes wild at the three-quarters mark of this seven-minute opus, which makes it really quite different to the album version. Following the ever-shifting “The Bob (Medley),” I have to wonder if the audience thought this would be what every song is like.

Thankfully, the next song is a very good live version of “Virginia Plain.” It still sounds a little restrained from the other versions, but it still rocks along nicely and follows the album version pretty closely. Eno’s magnificent synth riff in the middle eight is nice and LOUD as it should be. The audience clearly liked this one a lot.

Then we come to the more formal “Chance Meeting.” Once again, Eno is more prominent here than he was on the album or Peel Sessions. The instrumental break is nicely mixed and sounds great here.

The last track is “Re-make/Re-Model,” and again the band is back in top form with a fantastic sonic attack, though the band’s vocals caught the sound man napping for a few seconds until he brought their mic levels up. MacKay’s sax is amazing in a live setting, and the whole band are really on fire here — it’s clearly something they love playing.

At the three-quarters mark, Eno really gets to shoot his shot, but all the band members get to show off their chops really nicely, which is one of the reasons I like the song — it’s obvious why this was the concert ender; they are throwing the (sonic) kitchen sink at the audience, and they are are loving it, breaking out into a chant for more at the end that regrettably just fades away.

THE VERDICT

If you’ve listened to the box set in disc order, you’ve heard the album, the demos and out-take versions of the songs on the album, and now the “live in studio” and “actually live” versions, and you’re not done yet (more on that later).

The highlight of this disc, for me, is comparing guitarists O’List and Manzanera (which is like comparing Monet to Jackson Pollack), and judging Rik Kenton’s bass playing to Graham Simpson’s (both quite good, so a more difficult compare — and neither stayed with the band past this album). It’s also been fun to hear the band rehearsed but live on radio and in an audience environment — and very gratifying to hear that Roxy Music found an enthusiastic audience very quickly, given how bold the album was.

That said, the reason this album found its audience relatively easily is because there was a hell of a lot of new sounds coming out around this time. King Crimson was around, Kevin Ayers was around, John Cale and Terry Riley had put out an experimental minimalist album, and there was more of that as the move away from folk-rock had begun.

Audiences were looking for something different from the late 60s sounds, and in Roxy Music they found it. On the very same day it was released, a bubbling-under folk-rocker named David Bowie took a hard turn with a rock concept album (thanks to Mick Ronson) with The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars, and achieved superstar status.

Bowie won out in the UK album rankings, peaking at #6 while Roxy Music managed a very respectable #10 position. More importantly, it launched Roxy as a huge success right from the start, and has remained a strong influence for art-rock and New Wave bands across the decades.

Just as an example: earlier in 2024, acclaimed folk-rocker Linda Thompson released a successful album called Proxy Music, aping the cover of Roxy’s debut perfectly. Thompson has recently lost the ability to sing or speak due to spasmodic dysphonia, so she recruited others to sing the songs she wrote for the album.

Next time: the DVD (video portion)!

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Roxy Music – Roxy Music (box set) – Disc 2

1972/2018, 3CD + 1 DVD
CD 2 of 3

THE PROLOGUE

Hopefully you paid attention to my guidance in the prologue to Disc 1, and now you’ve skipped it and come here first. If so, pat yourself on the back — you’re here to watch the house get built, and then when you go back to the familiar sounds of the actual album, you will marvel anew at how well it all came together.

If you didn’t do that, well, I guess the best analogy would be that you already ate a marvelous cake, and now you’re inspired to go to cooking school to learn how such a cake could be made. Here you’re going to hear the false starts, the unfinished lyrics (and in all cases, unfinished songs), the recording fuck-ups either from the band’s missteps or technical goofs, the latter courtesy either their recording engineer (Andy Hendrickson), or producer Peter Sinfield (he of King Crimson and ELP) interrupting sometimes.

Most listeners don’t appreciate the effort that goes into making any album, let alone a great one like this, and so I think it is illuminative to hear bands still working out or tweaking songs while they are in the studio. Not to spoil anything, but Ferry (who wrote all the songs for this album) clearly had his musical ideas more or less lined up for the songs, and often had the central idea behind the song’s lyrics, but frequently added at least some lyrics somewhere along the way to the final song.

An important part on Disc 2 that shouldn’t be glossed over is that we get a taste of an earlier lineup of the band. Before Roxy was quite Roxy, it included bassist Rick Kenton on one track (his part survives on “Virginia Plain,” both the official single included on the album, and the “outtake” version here). Roger Bunn, not Phil Manzenera, handles guitar on the first four tracks on Disc 2, with Dexter Lloyd on drums for those same tracks.

Holy Re-make/Re-model, Batman! This is yet another reason to listen to this disc first — some of this is proto-Roxy before it all really came into focus. We don’t get to hear Ferry deciding his original lineup isn’t working, but things get more interesting starting with Track 5.

You might have picked up on it even if I hadn’t mentioned it, but things get more interesting starting with Track 5.. Manzenera’s contribution in particular helps put a special stamp on the sound.

We also hear that the musicians are still in the process of figuring out the arrangements of the songs. Sometimes they sound like they’re still trying out ideas that may or may not go anywhere, and you’ll hear several portions where solos will later go but aren’t there yet. It’s always kind of weird and jarring when a solo you like just … doesn’t happen.

There’s a feel throughout that Ferry wants to get this very right, and that they know they are doing something different: I mean, it’s not like there were a lot of oboe players routinely adding to rock songs in 1972. Likewise, the demos don’t feature quite as much of an Eno presence, though he is there (especially in th outtakes) — one gets the feeling that he worked out/added his parts himself and tended to add them “live in the studio,” the way it would seem the core of the tracks were recorded.

So, now that the project has mostly come together, let’s go through the demos (rougher) and outtakes (usually very similar to the finished products, sometimes missing parts to be overdubbed later) to spot the differences.

THE MUSIC

Ladytron (demo): A very Eno opening with an electronic atmosphere with a double-tracked oboe and some organ coming in with the introductory melody line as the electronics retreat. Then the electronic soundscape comes roaring back before a cold stop, with a very echoey Ferry and the band finally coming in. Sung in a bit of lower register, and no majestic riff — just a sax solo before the second verse. This is much more avant-jazz in style and just kinda peters out.

2HB (demo): A short bit of that trademark “snake charmer” music, and again it dies out and Ferry and the band come in cold, with a minimal arrangement. The song itself and its lyrics are complete, with Ferry taking front and center. The horns are absent now that the song has started. After the second verse, the whole tune drops out for an echoey instrumental sax break from … well, nothing to do with 2HB, but everything to do with the horns, which eventually devolve into free jazz bouncing off a deep bass sound.

Again, all that drops off the face of the earth and the song returns to finish up. The electric guitar in both song parts is played acoustically.

Chance Meeting (demo): Once again, a quavery verse, a long instrumental break (at least sticking to the song’s tune this time), and then the second verse, then another instrumental break, and another verse, a shorter instrumental break, and out.. Since these songs don’t have choruses, I guess they thought this might be a good way to present them?

The BOB (Medley) (demo): This one does something different: it starts with the first verse. It’s worth noting that there don’t seem to be any difference in lyrics from the finished versions, and the basic melodies also seem to be here for all the songs so far. The structure of the medley and lyrics are also here as it is in the finished song, so the impression of these demos is that Ferry’s got his act together, but the band is starting to work out what they might do in between the verses, and often falling back to easy cliches for now. Not much for Eno to do, though he makes his mark from time to time.

We’re now into outtakes that didn’t work rather than demos, but the band seem to know what each one is supposed to end up sounding like.

Instrumental (outtake): Very short and seemingly improvised riffing against an Eno backdrop. From here on out, it’s the band lineup as credited on the album.

Re-make/Re-Model (outtake): Now this starts off sounding like a song, then dies as Ferry tries to have a second go, and we get something VERY close to what we ended up with for a bit, albeit not mixed well at all. This one has a lot of back-and-forth between the engineer and Ferry, but the third take gels nicely. It kind of shines a light on how the non-vocal parts were shaped (prior to this point) through directed improv. There’s no band call-and-response in this version, though, which to me is second only to the lyrics in importance. The instrumental breaks here are almost identical to the finished product except for the sax.

Ladytron (outtake): By contrast, this one starts out quite a bit differently than the final product, but with the same idea in mind until the oboe comes in. Then a count-in, and Ferry on voice and piano with bass, then drums coming in. More like an actual traditional song after that instrumental break, and they still don’t have that heroic riff at the end of the verses yet.

If There is Something (outtake): trying to get started with the engineer first with Ferry on piano, then they count in and the band get going pretty much as we hear on the final track, except that Ferry hasn’t written past the first couple of lines of the lyric, so it is mostly instrumental — and a bit less “country” sounding. The hypnotic sax riff is here, though. Ferry returns for the … middle lyric? Not-chorus? Whatever you call this bit, the lyric here is done, as is most of the instrumentation. A long break before we get to the middle waiting lyric, with Ferry handling the “when we were young” part also.

2HB (outtake): Not far from the finished product, some unfinished lyrics and much tamer band breaks, and we find out why after the song ends.

The BOB (Medley) (outtake): “There’s no bass guitar or saxophone!” Ferry complains about the previous performance. Doh!

The band begins again in earnest at the 1’15” mark, and now with a just the synth part. It fades out at 3’20, and the second part comes in with the what seems to be the band minus the bass player. They stop and complain about this, and restart only to fall apart almost immediately. Thankfully they laugh about Paul breaking his stick, and suddenly fall into a bass/oboe/piano filler piece briefly. After a bit of natter, they start again and finally all parts can be heard — so they stop again, and faff around for a few more seconds.

Chance Meeting (outtake): Piano and bass only this time. Who the hell is the engineer on this thing?

Would You Believe? (outtake): synth and guitar only this time for the first 1’35”, then the song starts properly, but this is clearly not the final take. You are, however, reminded of Fats Domino’s influence on Ferry.

Sea Breezes (outtake): piano, bass, and drums only this time. This guy is so fired.

Bitters End (outtake): a stately opening, then the sound of the tape being rewound, then the tape jumps around a bit with a odd “fake birdsong” repeated effect. It eventually stops, then some conversation working out a take, then they start again. This is nothing like the 50s barbershop approach they settled on finally, its mostly just the piano and no lyrics. It’s fun to listen to it as almost solo piano, and then they discuss the arrangement a bit.

Virginia Plain (outtake): A false start, then another. Then a harsh cut, and suddenly the song is already in progress. Ferry’s performance is a rote runthrough of the lyrics rather than the actual whole-hearted performance as we ended up with, but we can finally hear the whole band again. Even in this very rough form, you want this song to be in there — it’s the most irresistable thing on the record, and I think they know it full well.

THE VERDICT

Historically speaking, this is fly-on-the-wall time — a glimpse at an earlier lineup (and why some people were replaced), a peek through the door of Ferry working out parts of songs, and a seat at the table as the band starts putting it all together. Re-make/Re-model (which still sounds like a stolen Kraftwerk song title to me) is the closest thing we get here to Athena bursting fully formed from the head of Zeus.

The demos get the basic ideas across but are far from finished, and really I suspect the outtakes were included both to round out the disc as well as embarrass the engineer one final time. Why? Because if there’s one thing we know about Bryan Ferry, it’s that he likes to look polished, poised, and debonair, and the clown in the booth is wasting Ferry’s time and money.

The outtakes remind us that, although he might be a songwriting god (already), Ferry’s a human being and an artist who takes the advice to revise, revise, revise. We are certainly all the better for that discipline, but on top of that we get to hear the new lineup coalesce and figure things out, something you don’t often get to see.

This shines a light on the creative process, and it doesn’t just apply to Roxy Music — these sessions all took place just a couple of years after the Beatles inadvertently documented their disintegration by filming their Let It Be sessions for a TV special.

As indicated by my encouragement to listen to Disc 2 first, I think hearing this first re-shapes how the final album sounds to us. Undoubtedly, most bands could have secret tapes like this, but in the case of Roxy something new and fresh was happening, and I like to think that’s why they kept at it to get this record made.

How lucky for us, eh?

Posted on by chasinvictoria

Roxy Music – Roxy Music (box set) – Box & Book

Virgin/EMI Records, 1972/2018
3CD + 1 DVD, book

THE PROLOGUE

Although Roxy Music as we know it began in 1970, it was two further years before the concept became a recording act, providing evidence of what they were up to in the form of their debut album. For this super deluxe box set, founder Bryan Ferry emptied his vaults for material well beyond the original album, including the early demos, album out-takes, radio sessions, and a DVD of mostly short television appearances, capped (on the DVD) by a new 5.1 DTS and Dolby AC3 mix of the album by Steven Wilson.

Billed as a 45-anniversary deluxe box set — even though it actually came out a year late, in 2018 — this weighty box includes three CDs and one DVD, the latter of which contains both visual and audio-only information (more on that later).

Where the weight gets put on is in the incorporated 136-page book documenting the band’s formation by The Guardian journalist and author Richard Williams, who first wrote about the group for the music paper Melody Maker in 1971. It features a plethora of previously rare or unpublished photos from those early days, along with a Ferry-approved essay on the founding and early days of the band. Everything is on a heavy stock glossy paper, surrounded by a glossy, high-grade cover.

We’ll begin our examination with the packaging and book before diving into the music. The set’s presentation, from the outside, suggests that you might be buying a five-disc vinyl box set and/or a coffee-table art book of the sort you find in museums, but thankfully this hefty tome devotes itself as much to sound as to vision. While there’s no vinyl to be found here, there are three CDs, 1 DVD, and the book on to very pleasurably work your way through.

THE BOX AND THE BOOK

The box is a three-sided slipcase box for the book, and the discs are tucked away in individual sleeves in the back of the book. The box reproduces the cover of the book, which in turn is a recreation the outside cover of the album. On the back of the box is a “removable” — if one is patient and careful — spot-glued paper outsert that shows the band logo, a brief blurb explaining the contents, the covers of the four discs in miniature, and the contents of each one.

This is the only spot on the outside where you will see all the requisite industry logos for the material inside, including the DVD logo, the all-region logo, and a couple of others. Given how radical a departure this album was from the mainstream in 1972, that “exempt from classification” MPAA “E” logo feels very appropriate.

The sound recording and other copyright logos and text are first seen on the stuck-on paper, as well as discreetly placed on the bottom of the slipcase. If one chooses to remove the paper to appreciate the full cover reproduction, the legally-required info is still there — a classy touch.

As packaged, the book spine is showing on the “open” side of the outer box, reproducing the gatefold spine. This of course means that as you pull the book out, you’ll be seeing Kari-Ann Muller’s lower leg and the gold record side of the cover.

If there’s one thing you can count on from a Bryan Ferry-led project, it’s that it should look, feel, and sound like no expense was spared, and that it is an important release. There’s only so much you can do to make a CD or vinyl album into a luxury item — though in the 70s, making it a gatefold album design was one sure way of transmitting that feel to the buyer, and indeed this debut album got the gatefold treatment in its original release.

The inside front and back cover and first and last endsheets showcase film positives of the many alternate takes and poses of Ms. Muller. There’s a title page with just the band’s logo, of course, and then the essay begins on the following page with yet another reproduction of the iconic cover.

A few of the many, many, many alternate images from the cover photoshoot.

Within the first few paragraphs, we learn that the two-tone Roxy Music logo uses a blue and pink that exactly matches the shade of Muller’s eye shadow and lipstick — again a mark of a premium product and that the carefully-constructed image with Muller’s “sultry” gaze was “an explicit taunt to the new rock establishment” that had come to dominate the form in the late 1960s.

Author Richard Williams notes that Elvis Presley had used a similarly bold two-tone logo and provocative photo for his debut album in 1956, and that eight years later, the Rolling Stones used an “unheard of” at the time stark photo with no text other than the Decca logo on the cover — another daring move for a debut album.

Eight years after that, Roxy Music made used the provocative and daring swimsuit-clad Muller, in a “glamour” type shot in a wraparound style, as their attention-grabbing debut cover. Compared to most the album covers of the time, Roxy’s cover was bold and wildly sexy for the time: “a signpost to a future of exotic promise,” as the essay describes it.

The book is a collaborative effort between Ferry, Wilson, Puxley, and a small army of mostly-uncredited photographers, although Ferry himself is among them (his are likely the photos of the other band members in rehearsal rooms). Without delving much into specifics and glossing over any conflicts, it outlines the history of the band, starting with Ferry’s idea for it, with his friend Graham Simpson providing some musical foundation, and the process of recruiting the others — including some, like Roger Bunn and Dexter Lloyd, who didn’t last past the demo tape.

Andy Mackay was an early addition who made the grade, though, and he was the one who the world must thank for bringing in Brian Eno. Eno was initially brought in to play Andy’s synthesizer and mix the sound, meaning he would be at the mixing desk rather than onstage with the band. The group rehearsed at the home of Ferry’s girlfriend Susie Cussins, to whom the first album is dedicated.

Phil Manzerera had been part of that round of auditions, but had been passed over initially, and then called back when Ferry’s first choice — David O’List — eventually didn’t pan out. O’List went on to a fairly illustrious career playing with a bunch of bands, including The Nice, Jet, Jethro Tull, Pink Floyd and others. He has two solo albums out in the 21st century.

Davy O’List’s prior band, The Attack, from 1966. He’s the curly-haired chap.

By May 1971, “Roxy” was finally deemed ready to cut a demo to shop to record labels. Ironically, the big obstacle with the first round of record companies didn’t turn out to be the band — it was Ferry.

His singing was very out-of-fashion for the rock of the time, with a mannered upper-class style and sort of anguished general tone, as if he is straining to not just say the lines rather than sing them. No hint of blues or soul style could be detected, and he had a rather fey quavering falsetto that was sparingly used.

That first demo tape, which we’ll get to hear on Disc 2, is all pre-Eno, and mostly features the “Mark 1” version of the band, with the early musicians and rougher sketches of the songs they would become, some with different titles.

They had to change the name to “Roxy Music” since there was already a band named “Roxy” in the US. The demo helped solidify the band, specifically helping attract Paul Thompson as the new (and permanent) drummer, replacing Lloyd, and of course eventually adding the mystery ingredient that was Brian Eno and his cutting-edge electronic wizardry.

This lineup, and a dash of glam and glitter and sequins all over the place, got them invited to a lot of events. Eventually, they met the legendary DJ John Peel, who had heard the demo. With the help of John Walters, Peel’s producer, they got a couple of live guest spots on Peel’s popular radio show.

This got them the thing they needed most: some positive press in the mainstream and music papers. From there, everything started to fall into place, and the band we know and love was cemented and offered the chance to make an album.

The essay itself is peppered with early images, and after the words we get many pages of more photos from live gigs and in the studio, some candid shots and a handful of formal pics. Even in these, we see also the band’s visual sense: Ferry’s formality, Eno’s glitter bombing, Mackay’s sequins, Manzanera’s bizarre eyewear. Thompson, who occasionally favored leopard-print and caveman-type clothing when he wasn’t shirtless but for a sequined vest, was the least-photographed member in these as he’s always in the back, of course.

This is followed by pages of lyrics (accompanied by more photos), the typewritten original lyric sheets (with a few scratch-throughs and notes), a page of quotes reflecting on the album by Ferry, a few pages of Puxley’s eccentric descriptions of the songs and key lyrical phrases, a few more pages of Keri-Ann photos including one in a completely different outfit).

This goes on to show images of the master-tape boxes, early press releases and bios, many pictures from the Lincoln Festival in May of ’72 (their first festival show), the UK tour of ’72 program book cover and dates (with a few photos), a brief tour diary, an ad for the album, a montage of small venue notices, want ads the band took out looking for a drummer and guitarist (“for avant-rock group”, single covers and posters from various countries, newspaper notices (mostly positive, but a few not quite complimentary), the US tour listing, and — finally — big colour pictures and stills from TV appearances, and the US and UK shows.

L-R: Mazenera, Ferry, Mackay, Eno, Rik Kenton (who replaced Graham Simpson for the first tour), Thompson

The book wraps with a two-page spread of the CD covers and their contents, a page of credits for the book, the CDs and some of the photos, and another page of Keri-Ann outtakes.

Next time: Disc 1 — the “original” album!